


Sunday Afternoon

by ellamequiere



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-16
Updated: 2011-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 03:32:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellamequiere/pseuds/ellamequiere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  1989, and Hungary sees Prussia and Austria for the first time since the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Afternoon

Two of her oldest rivals, friends, enemies.  She reflected sometimes that if you averaged them out, you might end up with a tolerable man.  As it was… why did she put up with them?  Well, what else could she do?

She’d slept with both of them.  Austria…  you didn’t share a border with someone for seven centuries without ending up in bed a few times, whether you meant to or not.  Then there had been the centuries of the intolerable Hapsburgs, and the wild few decades of the Dual Monarchy, and—well, she wasn’t always proud of what they’d done, but she wouldn’t take it back. 

Despite what the rumors said, they’d never been lovers.  They’d been in bed, and they’d ruled together, and Lord had they fought, but that kind of intimacy… They didn’t have it, even now.  She doubted they ever would—that they could, even if she'd wanted to.  Some nights, when she was alone in bed and she couldn’t sleep, she wasn’t sure she hadn’t once.  But it hardly mattered now.

Prussia.  They’d only really been close when they were both fighting Austria, but that didn’t make it any less intense.  She thought fondly of that last year before the Compromise; her rebellion had been suppressed by then—it had been nearly twenty years since Russia had allied with Austria to overrun her—so she couldn’t join Prussia officially.  She wasn't even directly involved in the conflict.  But they had all known that in the aftermath of Austria’s defeat, the man would have no choice but to recognize her.  And Prussia, in those days… she remembered fucking him, wild and laughing, on the bloody field at Königgrätz. 

The first time they’d all been in bed was during the Great War.  They’d been thrown together by circumstance more than anything; it was late, and they were drunk and scared.  It was near the end, and they all knew it.  Not knowing if in a year she’d be even as sovereign as she was then, angry at them both and at herself, when Austria touched her, and she saw the look on Prussia’s face… well, one thing had to another.  Austria and Prussia barely met each other’s eyes, let alone touched.

The War ended.  During the intermediary years, they were all too concerned with rebuilding, regrouping to bother with each other.  Then came the second War, and she hardly saw them.  They were preoccupied with each other, and with Germany, the young nation who had finally formally absorbed Prussia.  Most of her dealings were with this new nation; Prussia was fighting on the front lines, and Austria wasn’t allowed to see her. 

The agony of the fighting between the Germans and the Russians in her precious Budapest.  Then the long decades of Soviet rule.  She and Prussia—now the German Democratic Republic, a transition that none of them particularly understood—saw each other, but were too tired, too sad, to enjoy each other’s company.  There had been sex, but it had been simple, fast, nearly silent, and Hungary thought she’d seen tears in Prussia’s eyes as he pulled up his pants and walked out.  Austria was again off-limits.

The fall of the Wall, and the euphoria of sovereignty.  Prussia, rejoining his brother, was too happy to worry about what it would mean for him as a nation.  She remembered the first time they’d seen Austria; it was a Sunday, early afternoon, and the light against his government buildings had been beautiful.  They’d been quiet, not meeting each other’s eyes.  Then Prussia had said, “Know what, guys?  I think we should fuck.” 

 

 

 

“Know what, guys?  I think we should fuck.”

Austria sputtered.  “Fall of communism-- beginning of a new era-- _and the first thing you think of is sex?_ "

Prussia stared at him.  “Well, yeah.”  Hungary stifled a laugh.

Austria looked at her, and quickly away.  She sighed, and stepped next to him, kissing his cheek.  “Why not, Roderich?  It's been a long, long time.” 

She saw a faint flush color his cheeks.  Even when they'd lived together for all those centuries, she'd rarely used that tone with him.  He coughed.  “...yes,” he said, almost inaudibly.  “Yes, alright.”  Prussia's smirk was smug, and she wondered if he wasn't jumping to an unfounded conclusion (mostly unfounded) about the way the night would go.  But it wasn't her problem.  She'd always been in a strange position, since in the cock-centric world of international politics, penetration was power.  In sex that was purely political, she'd use a prop-- it had its charms.  But it wasn't right for this.  So she was out of the pissing contest, and she was almost glad for it.

It was her house they went to-- they always met at her house, it was easier for everyone.  Inside, she took Austria's hand, and kissed it.  He shifted uncomfortably at the traditionally masculine gesture, and she hid a predatory smile behind a sweeter one.  “To bed, then?” she asked.

“Fuck yeah, to bed,” said Prussia, and grabbed her by the elbow.  Still smiling, she elbowed him hard in the diaphragm.  He doubled over coughing-- they ignored him.  Austria nodded, solemnly, and for once she didn't want to laugh.  She let him take her arm and lead her up the stairs to her bedroom, with Prussia pounding up the stairs behind them.

When Prussia let the door slam behind them, Austria jumped.  Hungary's smile didn't waver.  Even after all these years, the sight of him off-balance and nervous appealed to the part of her personality that had nothing to do with affection and everything to do with revenge.  Prussia, boorish and clumsy as always, grabbed the other man by the hair, pulling his head back so that the whispered “Did I startle you?” slithered right into his ear.  Austria's eyes closed-- involuntarily, she suspected.  Her blood pumped fast and hot.

But...  she kissed Austria on the cheek, and Prussia on the mouth, her own fingers tangling hard in his hair.  'Not now,' she mouthed.  Prussia's expression was stubborn, so she added 'Not yet.'  His face split into a predatory grin to match the one she'd kept inside.  God but that shit got her hot.  Tonight though, what they deserved-- needed-- was reconciliation.  She was woman enough to know it, and man enough to make it happen.

Moving her mouth away from Prussia's, hands still in his hair, she turned to Austria.  Kissed him, lightly, on the lips.  His eyes closed.  She couldn't be quite sure what he was feeling, and honestly, she didn't feel that it was her duty anymore to find out.  If it ever had been.  She moved her hands to his face, and watched Prussia's grab onto his hips.  His expression was almost pained, but with a brush of a thigh she confirmed what she'd already known; he wanted them, badly.

This initial uncertainty as they felt out how the evening was going to go-- who was going to fuck and suck, who was going to take and give-- was achingly familiar.  She watched the men's body language: Prussia, more and more daring, hands running up and down Austria's chest now, over his neck, under his cravat-- Austria shuddered; his body relaxed infinitesimally against the other man.  Austria, eyes closed, every moment fractions of a centimeter more pliant.  She loved that.  And later, the shame and anger as he tried to process what he'd agreed to-- she loved that too.  Revenge.

But tonight, she wasn't interested in being an accessory to their fucked-up mind games.  She had hate of her own, and anger, and compassion and regret.  They needed resolution, not more of that cock-measuring bullshit, no matter how hot it got her when Austria lost.  So she left them and went to sit on her bed, spreading her legs just enough, and lifting her skirts an inch.  Prussia's eyes followed her hungrily-- omnivore-- and Austria's face filled with pain.  She met his eyes:  You could have had this years ago, if you hadn't been such a selfish prick.  Look what it took to get you here-- two world wars, and nearly half a century of watching while I belonged to another.  And now it's too late.  You can have me, but you can't have me alone.

Austria understood enough to avert his eyes.  Prussia stepped up to her-- she still hadn't figured out how much she blamed him for what had happened in the forties, but that was for another time.  He slid her skirt up her thighs, and she leaned back and let him.  Then he did something she didn't expect.  Instead of pushing her down on her back in his inimitably forward way, he knelt between her knees, and kissed the top of her thigh.  She looked down at him, quizzical.  When he looked up, she saw... guilt.  Sorrow.  Emotions she'd've thought too delicate for someone like Prussia. 

He put his head back down, and licked a gentle line around the edge of her panties.  She almost pushed him away-- a little oral sex wasn't going to erase what had happened to her Budapest, to her country.  But watching the back of his head as he worked his way up to her hipbone and back down, she realized that it wasn't sex he was offering her.  It was vulnerability.  And that, she was willing to accept.

With a sigh, she hiked her skirts up higher, and leaned back on her elbows to watch. He was gentle, serious, working his way up the inside of her thigh, and back down. She shook her head; she'd seen him give head, and it was all hard suction and too-far-too-fast and uncontrolled scraping of teeth. She wondered where he'd learned this, or if he'd learned it at all.

It was a long moment before she looked up at Austria. He was still looking away, cravat and hair mussed-- his glasses had been removed at some point. “Well?” she said, and she found that her voice was expectant.

He gave her a searching look. “I wouldn't-- that is to say--”  She knew how he felt about women. He might have wanted her like a lover, but she he'd never wanted her in the carnal way that he did Prussia. But this wasn't really about sex-- it was about forgiveness. So she raised her eyebrows, and waited.

Finally, eyes downcast, he dropped to his knees and crawled to them. Prussia looked up at him in surprise-- Austria didn't meet his eyes. Prussia shrugged, and moved over to give him room between her legs. When Austria's head bent over her and she felt the first warm touch, the jolt of heat to her cunt nearly made her shudder.

It was long, cool fingers that slipped under the band of her panties, and slid them off. It was a hot, rough tongue that first touched her bare skin. A low, breathy sound of surprise and pleasure left her mouth-- she was glad, because underneath was a laugh. Of course Prussia would think that he should lick _there_ ; it was probably the only part of a woman he'd ever thought about.

Austria, however... He spread her delicately, and licked just there-- just-- she fought to keep her hips still, and this time, the sound she made was more like a gasp. He'd positioned his elbows to help her keep her legs open, and she whined a little, shifting her hips toward him. He moved back as she moved forward, little flicks of his tongue the only contact he'd give her. She nearly screamed in frustration. Prussia looked on in dumbfounded amazement. Sort of like the expression he'd wear if someone tried to take him to a museum, she thought nastily. Then Austria's tongue was moving faster, and she wasn't thinking at all, just suffering-- and it was too much, it wasn't enough, it--

His tongue went flat, and he calmed her with a slow lick, some gentle suction. God in Heaven, he was only starting? She let out a shuddery breath.

“Fuck,” whispered Prussia with feeling.

Austria looked up, face torn between superiority and embarrassment. “Yes, well,” he mumbled.

“Maria Theresa was a lucky woman,” Prussia said with a mean laugh, and Austria shot him a nasty look.  Damn those Hapsburgs to Hell. Interfering at the worst times, even in death.  And...

"Do not assume that we all carry on the way you did with _Herr Fritz_ , you unrepentant whore."  Yes, there it was.  She could predict their little tiffs in her sleep.  Prussia's face darkened, and he opened his mouth to reply.   Impatiently, she stripped off her dress-- thank God, the days of those laced-and-tacked deathtraps was over-- and spread her legs again, want making her bold. Prussia looked up, the amazement on his face less dumbfounded, and more... It was almost reverent.

“Has it really been that long since you've had a woman, Prussia?” she asked.

Prussia coughed and looked away-- she was reminded forcibly of Austria, and had to fight down a laugh. She lay back, letting her hair fall how it fell, and raised her arms over her head. Austria, obeying a command she hadn't realized she was giving, crawled up her body to lick a line up the underside of her breast; she sighed, contented.  “Hold her hips still,” Austria instructed quietly.

There were strong hands on her hipbones, and Prussia asked, “What should I do?”

Hungary, snapped briefly out of the haze of lust, wondered if she'd ever heard Prussia turn to Austria for advice. “Lick her, of course,” was the impatient response. A little noise came out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Prussia's mouth wasn't as dainty and skilled as Austria's, but could she really be surprised?  It was hot on her, and even if it wasn't quite in the right place, it was enough to...  And Austria biting tiny circles around her nipple, fingers teasing the other-- not quite touching, but so close, so close...  She wanted to scream.  She settled for a little growl of frustration, and Prussia looked up in concern.  “Is she ok, man?”

“Yes,” hummed Austria against her skin, “she's fine.”  She would have rebuked him for speaking for her, but then his mouth was around her nipple, and he'd taken the other gently between his fingers, and _God_ but she was _keening_...

“So you're really good at tits, huh,” said Prussia, taking his mouth off her for a second time. 

This time she did scream.  “Prussia!  Less talking, more _sucking_.”

“Sucking?” she heard him say, and she could just imagine the expression that had returned to his face.  “Sucking what?”  She stifled a groan.  War prisoners?  You mean we're not supposed to kill them all?  Fork?  You mean I shouldn't eat it with my hands?  Cretin.

Austria sighed, laid a final kiss on her nipple-- she shivered-- and crawled back down her body.  Fingers spread her open again.  “Put your mouth over her, here.”  Wet heat, and she whined.  It drew away.  “And suck, gently.  Be careful of your teeth,” he added firmly.  Hungary would have laughed; she was fairly sure Prussia exaggerated his own clumsiness on that count with Austria.

Fingers moved away, and others replaced them-- less precise, stretching a little too far, but she wasn't complaining.  Then a mouth, in the _right_ place this time...  God.  Her hands fisted in the sheets.  “She didn't make a noise,” Prussia complained.  Lord in Heaven, if he _didn't stop talking..._

Austria answered, quietly.  “Use your tongue as well.”  He took Prussia's hand and put his mouth to it, presumably demonstrating. 

Prussia flinched a little.  “That tickles, man,”

“It won't tickle her,” Austria answered, with considerably more patience than he usually displayed towards the other man.

Prussia shrugged, and put his mouth to her again.  His tongue moved more-or-less the way Austria's had, but about half a centimeter too low.  She sighed.  He looked up, all guilty-puppy.  She took pity on him.  “Higher,” she said.  He complied.  Another sigh.  Almost...  “Higher,” she repeated.  And...  She gasped. 

Prussia looked up, eyes widening.  “Austria, you prick,” he whispered.  “Why didn't you _tell_ me to lick the little bump thing?”

Austria hid his face in his hands.  “I thought you knew,” he said, muffled.

“Why?  Are all chicks like that?”

“Prussia,” Austria responded, “you uncultured, feeble-minded fag.  Have you ever slept with a woman in your life?” 

Prussia opened his mouth to respond, but Hungary kicked him in the ass with her heel.  “This is getting really tiring,” she told them.  Austria looked away, and Prussia almost looked sheepish.  Damn, what had gotten into them today?

“Sorry,” muttered Prussia, and then his mouth was on her again, and she didn't really give a fuck what they'd been talking about.  She shuddered, and didn't stop herself from tangling her fingers in Prussia's hair-- she thought she heard a whine.  When she opened her eyes to look at Austria, the expression she saw there made her heart ache; she pulled him up for a kiss, smiling into his mouth when his fingers combed gently through her hair.  Amazing what a little oral did for her outlook.  Then she took in a little breath; Prussia had slipped a finger into her, and he didn't really know what he was doing with it-- it was limp, and not at a particularly interesting angle-- but the pressure was so good...

She felt Austria crawl backwards to kneel between her legs, and the sight of both of them there made her catch her breath.  Then Austria looked her straight in the face, and ducked his head down to let his tongue join Prussia's.  Her eyes opened wide, and she was panting, and when Prussia looked up dubiously she sent him a glare that would have melted gunmetal.  He gulped, and lowered his head again.

She watched them, and damn, but it was hot.  After a few moments, she lost track of whose tongue was whose, whose fingers were where...  Hazily, she wondered if she'd ever seen them doing anything so close to kissing like lovers, rather than the savage thrusting and biting that was their norm.  In that moment, she realized she'd be thinking of this at night for the _rest of her life_.

There was a light touch up the inside of her thigh, and the barest pressure of fingernails back down, and then the finger inside her was joined by another, this one angled up expertly.  Her eyes snapped open (when had she closed them?) .  They moved slickly against each other, one deep and hard, one shallow and hitting _just_ there...  Then there was a delicate tongue just above the fingers, and a hot mouth over her clit, and _God_...  She rode the orgasm to the bitter end, clenching and thrusting up against them, nearly crying.  She wasn't sure she'd ever come so soon in her life.  One mouth moved away, and the other sucked her gently, bring her back down as the fingers slipped out of her.  Finally, it moved away, and there was nothing but a gentle hand on her hip, and a cheek against her thigh.  She looked down at them-- Prussia, leaning his head on her, eyes glazed.  Austria, the look on his face pleased, perhaps a little calculating.  She let out a shuddery breath, and closed her eyes.  God in Heaven.

There was a startled exclamation, and she opened her eyes.  Prussia had his hands in Austria's hair, and he wasn't kissing him, he was...  he was licking him, licking his mouth.  With a jolt to her cunt, she realized he was licking _her_ off the other man, eyes closed and brow furrowed in something like pain-- he'd never had good impulse control.  She laughed, a little breathlessly.  Austria pushed him away.  “You've really never done that before, have you?” he asked. 

Prussia looked away, face burning.  “You're right,” said Hungary.  “We do taste better than men.”

He looked up in suspicion.  “What, _you've_ done it?”

“Of course,” she said indifferently.  His eyes went a little unfocused, and she laughed again.  “Do you want me to let you watch?” she asked, letting her voice go low.  She heard Austria stifle a laugh. 

Prussia shot him a nasty look.  “It's not funny,” he said, almost petulantly.

“It's not,” agreed Austria, fighting to keep a straight face.  Hungary snickered.

“It's _not funny_ ,” repeated Prussia loudly.

“Of course not,” Hungary agreed.  But then she looked at Austria-- that was the mistake.  They both burst out laughing.

“What the fuck are you laughing for?” he asked, expression starting to turn dangerous.

“Sorry,” Hungary choked out, “it's just...”

“Well, we always thought--”

“We thought that you were an in-and-out kind of guy, you know, shove it in there and--”

“I _am_ an in-and-out kind of guy,” he said, tone daring them to contradict him.  “It's not like I _enjoyed_ that or anything.”

“Right.”

“Of course.”

“So who do I get to fuck?” he asked, voice unnecessarily loud.

Austria and Hungary met each others' eyes.  “Don't even think about it,” said Hungary, "nobody's touching me for at least half an hour."  Austria sighed.  “You might as well let him,” she continued.  “He'll be out-of-sorts for weeks if we don't let him finish feeling like a man.”

“And what if _I_ would like to, ah, feel like a man?” Austria asked, raising his eyebrows.

She stretched out, lazily.  “You can fuck me later,” she said, with casual vulgarity.  Austria coughed quietly but emphatically, and looked away.

“So?” Prussia demanded.  Apparently the past thirty seconds had gone over his head.

Austria sighed.  “Very well.  If you must.”

“I must,” said Prussia mutinously. 

She closed her eyes against the shuffling, and the “That was my foot, you cretin,” and the “Take it like a man, bitch.” 

Damn.  Not bad for a Sunday afternoon.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *In 1867, Austria was more-or-less forced to share power with the Hungarian government, as he had weakened politically so much after the Austro–Sardinian War in 1859, and-- notably-- the Austro-Prussian War in 1866.  So Hungary definitely developed a little bit of a girlboner for Prussia in that period. 
> 
> *This decision was called the Compromise of 1867, and initiated the Dual Monarchy, which would last until the end of the First World War.
> 
> *About twenty years before, in 1848, Hungary got caught up in the revolution fever that was affecting lots of European nations-- she did a damn good job too, until Emperor Ferdinand got Tsar Nicholas I involved.  She's pretty bitter about that.
> 
> *At the Battle of Königgrätz, the Prussian army met an Austrian army of roughly equal size, and left the field having inflicted four times the casualties.  Austria signed the Peace of Prague about three weeks later, ending the war.
> 
> *During World War II, the Soviet Union fought the Germans (and pro-German Hungarians) in the Siege of Budapest.  It was a really nasty battle, and the aftermath was even worse.
> 
> *Then they had sex.
> 
> *Thanks for reading <3\. 
> 
>  


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